Dawn
by lovelylittlebook
Summary: At first light, it almost always means safety. The secure warmth of light, a new day means a new start. Rebirth. Revival. Redemption. But what happens, when with the sunlight, comes a whole new terror, ripping away the known safety, something dark that nobody can control? Sequel to "Dead of Night." Reid/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hello All! If you are reading this story, you are probably here because you know this is the sequel to 'The Dead of Night' and you wanted more. Excellent! But, if you are a newcomer, and was simply intrigued by my fabulous (not really) summary, I will tell you that to understand ANY of this story you will need to read, 'The Dead of Night' first. **

**Okay? Everybody settled? Here we go!**

**Thank you for reading, always review, and have a fabulous day!**

Spencer P.O.V

Sun filtered in through the window, filling the room with a golden hue.

Dawn.

I lay perfectly still, not wanting to disturb her finally peaceful sleep, my thumb lightly tracing up and down her back.

A small smile formed on my lips, my eidetic memory recounting every perfect second from the previous night, a tangle of legs, feathers and sheets.

Her sleek black wings were relaxed, one tucked against her back, the other gently spread across the other side of the bed, limply hanging over the side.

I let my thoughts wander, and for some reason, my mind landed on a darker memory.

My connection to Alex Night had been immediate and unexplainable, but that doesn't mean everything had always been perfect…

_I let myself slump against the hallway wall, a relaxed sigh slowing my body as I could finally let the drug once again take over my system. _

_Dilaudid. _

_I suppose I let myself do this, simply for the fact that my addiction hadn't been of my own fault. That was my excuse._

_Alex still didn't know. I knew how she'd react, simply over her immense fear of loss. I couldn't worry her with something that was nothing more than my own problem. _

_But yet, simply thinking about her seemed to have cursed me, as all too late did I hear the key turning in the door, and barely even had to the time to stand before she was entering the apartment._

_At first glance she saw nothing unusual, a fresh grin on her face from another day, but it took less than five seconds for her advanced vision to take everything else in, and she stopped cold, almost immediately, her features going blank._

"_Spencer?" On instinct she'd guarded herself, and not even I could detect any sense of emotion in her voice. "What are you doing?"_

_I couldn't say anything, only give her a look that I'm sure was hopeless and lost._

_She hadn't moved an inch, her features hardened. _

"_No," her voice was just a whisper. "Not him. Not this."_

_Her deep green eyes finally met mine, and for the first time, I saw the unbelievable amount of pain behind them. "Not you."_

_She moved swiftly. I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or her unbelievable speed, but I hadn't seen her move, and suddenly, she was directly in front of me, and in seconds, the needle was on the ground, shattered._

"_You're not doing this. This isn't- this won't happen to you."_

_I dropped the remaining bottle of the clear liquid of my own accord, reaching out for her arm, but she recoiled, backing into the kitchen. _

"_Alex," I had somehow found my voice, scratchy and hoarse. "I'm sorry."_

"_No!" She was alive, suddenly filled with a fire built from years of torment and running, and seeing the needle had only made this worse. _

"_You can't Spencer. You can't do that. I've failed at protecting those I love before, but I can't protect you from yourself."_

"_I know," a stab of guilt coursed through me. I had known this would happen, I had clearly calculated how badly this would affect her, and yet I had continued to take the risk. "I won't. I promise, I will stop."_

"_That's the problem," she hissed through grit teeth. "You _can't _just stop."_

"_But I will!" I had raised my voice well over a yell. "Alex, I'll quit. I'm done, I promise you."_

_She closed her eyes, and I could see the tears she refused to cry wrack her entire frame, and for a few seconds she did nothing but stand there, shaking. _

_I couldn't do this. I couldn't stand here and watch her fight off a pain that I had caused. I took the risk, knowing she could react by breaking something, but I didn't care. I wrapped my arms tightly around her, not giving her room to back away. She didn't resist. Instead, this seemed her breaking point, and her knees buckled underneath, mine collapsing as well. _

_Sobs wracked her body, but yet I could hear her trying to stop it. _

"_I'm sorry," I grasped her tightly, and there we sat on the kitchen floor. "I'm sorry," I could feel my own tears now, holding on to her as tightly as possible. _

_I repeated it again and again, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' A mantra if you will. _

_She couldn't leave. Because now, I needed her._

I inwardly flinched at the memory.

Yes, we'd had our dark spots, and we've each gone through our own living hell, but somehow, we'd come through it all. And now, here we were.

At Dawn, we were safe.


	2. Comfort Food

**I'm not even going to try and apologize anymore. Just know that I am grateful for those that are still clinging on to my horrible updating. Thank you all!**

Alex P.O.V

It was a brilliant feeling. Something I wasn't used to. You're warm, you're comfortable, and not a single bad thought crosses your mind. You're lying next to someone that you can bare your soul to, knowing they won't leave you. And this feeling, this _thing_ in which I'd almost never experienced.

Safety. Comfort. _Love._

I was safe. For the first time I can remember, my muscles aren't sour from a previous fight. I have a family. People that care about me. I have Spencer.

I can feel his hands, warm holding my body next to his, one lightly tapping my shoulder.

"I know you're awake."

He sounds amused.

I smile into his neck.

"What's with you?"

A good question, considering I almost never wake up this early, and certainly not of my own accord.

"I was just… thinking," I mused.

"Thinking huh? Isn't that my thing?"

"No, see _you_ think about statistics, facts, mathematical equations, chances of survival, serial killers…" my ramble goes on, fading as his lips press gently against mine.

"And what exactly does the great Alex Night think about?" He murmured.

"This isn't…_real._ I feel like any minute now, something's going to come bursting through that door, proving that the safety can't last."

As surprising at it is, I've gotten very used to talking to Spencer about…feelings. Most of them really. I've…warmed.

I am still Alex Night. I am still a scientific breakthrough, still a hard fighter, still untrustworthy, still cold, but I am not the _same_ Alex Night as I was.

I used to spend my nights with the company of a Jack Daniel's bottle playing Russian roulette with a gun pressed to my head, never believed that my life would ever be more than killing and hunting.

I am still as cruel as the rest of the world as it was to me, but when it comes to the BAU, Silver, Spencer, I can show them, talk to them, and faithfully protect them.

I am proud to say that I have changed for the better.

It's my stomach (surprise, surprise) that interrupts our comfortable silence.

After a few minutes of finding the proper clothing items previously thrown across the room, we make our way to the kitchen.

It was Silver who used to take care of our food from our days on the run. I can successfully make a bowl of cereal, and maybe toast and popcorn if I focus. Everything else manages to burst into flames.

We're in the middle of a relaxing breakfast, coffee quickly following, when the phone rings.

Correction. _Both_ of our phones ring.

So much for safety.

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**

**Thank you all so much!**


	3. One out of Thousands

My number? 128-JzQ

I have long since forgotten my name.

I knew what it was like. To be different the way she was. To feel the slightest breath of wind, ones that humans didn't even know were there. To see every crack in the ground, every detail of something a mile away. To look at something, its entirety blurring, than refocusing in stunning clarity, your eyes perfecting its image. To hear the heartbeat of every person in the building, every breath, the forced smiles, nervous breaths. To smell someone's blood rush through their bodies, in the thrill and climax of your hunt. But there was a particular type of blood I enjoyed the most.

Yes, humans were just fine. They satisfied that animalistic need implanted in my DNA, but what I really needed, what I _craved_, was the sweet scent of _hers. _That beautiful, perfect mixture of bird and human, calling to me every time I got close. But what I loved the most about hunting her, was the challenge she gave me. I'd been designed earlier than she had, so by comparison, she was in fact _better_ than me. Faster, smarter, _stronger._ She couldn't be caught.

Before you _Twilight_ loving fan girls get your hopes up, I do not feed upon the lesser species. I was one of them myself, not long before the operation was offered. No I am used as a…_guard _if you will a soldier of what was meant to be a better species of human. I just let myself indulge; play games with my targets. Enjoy the hunt. But I have other purposes. Like now, if you will. When something goes…wrong in our plan, they send me out to fix it. My target had caused quite the stirrings lately, even getting the federal Government involved, something I knew firsthand that my instructor did not want.

There are others. Others produced in mass quantity. And if I were to fail, another would be sent in my place. But I have yet to fail, and simply because this target is more-stubborn than the last does not mean I have lost my confidence. I've been pining for this spot for years. To be where I am at this exact moment. To see her smile, laugh it makes me _sick._ I was updated. She was not. She is an outdated subject, still allowing herself to remain among mere humans. I do not understand why Director Jones let her get away. He'd explained very calmly, that it hadn't felt… right yet to get rid of her. He should've broken her neck, get it over with, spare us the drama.

Sadly, I can't kill her. Yet… it is horribly tempting. I can hear her blood rush, that much faster than any human, those eyes still bright as fire, just as he'd described. I don't know why the Director loves her so. I can see it, the way he talks about her. It drove me to the conclusion that is why he was too weak to kill her off.

I can assure you that I have no affection for that thing. The sooner it is dead, the easier.

_No!_

The command rips through my body, nearly slamming me against the wall.

My programming.

I literally cannot defy an order.

I steel myself against the physical pain that comes with my update, the artificial brain cells implanted in the latest surgery still not blended with the rest of me, and I catch a glance of my reflection in the glass window.

Ice. Cold and unforgiving, my once hazel eyes now are exactly like the others, a cold, empty, dull, frozen blue. I sigh, turning back to my target.

I am simply supposed to watch her now. If I must, protect her. Her life now is more valuable than ever.

I must remember that. I must know that it will have to happen in order for his overall plan to work. Because though it will be a marvelous feat, he has so much more planned after her fall. He assures me though, personally, again and again.

_She will fall. She will be broken. Alex Night will die._

_Alex Night will die._

I repeat it over and over again, reminding myself that it _will_ happen.

_Alex Night will die._

Just not right now.

**That's right folks. I'm back in business. My genius mind is back, and I'm not giving you a break. Hold on to your ass's boys and girls, though I wouldn't recommend this story for children. Welcome back to the never ending hell that is Alex Night's life.**


	4. In my blood

**All I can say is…wow! I've gotten quite a lot of Private Messages in response to this whole thing. **

**So, I should inform you, that so far, Divergent is winning, Hunger Games and Criminal Minds very close behind. I'll leave the slot open for a few more days before we move onto our next step. There's still time to vote!**

**Thank you all for your great responses!**

Alex P.O.V

Most people would call it life-risking and stupid. Trying to be the hero before thoroughly thinking out your situation. Hot-headedness, reacting too quickly. Showing off. Danger.

We call it work.

Working with the FBI has its perks, like good coffee, free air fare, good health and dental care, the family feeling you develop with your team.

But it comes with its cons. When the good coffee is no longer good, the fact that I don't always use the actual plane, the long hours and lack of sleep. And, oh yeah, the constant presence of danger, spending your time hunting down the real monsters that go bump in the night.

And I love every second of it.

Around the age of seventeen, Silver and I were on the ultimate freedom high.

We thrilled off of the chase, laughed when they tried to kill us, stolen bottles of Scotch in hand, endless supply of bullets always on us.

A stolen car here, a cleaned out bank account there, and we were living in the fast line, all under the excuse that we needed it in order to live while being hunted.

Silver took solace in calling it the bitch that was Karma.

So, when confronted with the fact that I did in fact need to someday grow up (however little I thought about it) I resented it.

How was I, to go from this non-stop, every second every fight lifestyle, expected to settle down, work in some office somewhere?

I simply wouldn't do it.

So now, I'm glad the FBI finally found me that fateful day, and offered me the job. This was probably the one job in the world that would've satisfied my need to hunt, the instincts to kill.

It scares me though.

How different does this make me, from the people that killed my family?

I'm simply choosing not to act on it.

I never think about it, but when I focus, I realize just what I'm capable of.

Though I have gotten older, currently twenty three, that has only made my… resources stronger.

Vision equal to that of a raptor, the strength to break handcuffs off, rather than pick my way out. The speed to dodge a bullet in a moment's notice, and the enhanced senses to feel that bullet fly by, ruffling my hair, smell someone's blood.

Every now and then it hits me full force, like slamming into a wall at ninety miles per hour, divesting me.

I was designed to kill.

My mind automatically jumps to the quickest way to break someone's neck, and the fastest escape route.

You give me anything, even a pen, and it takes seconds for me to calculate just what vein to strike, and I can kill you with it in less than three seconds.

I've never had the _desire_ per say to kill, but it's there, more of a _need_ than a want.

But there's one thing that I know I can't help. Something that calms me relieves me.

I can't help it. It's not my fault.

After all, the instinct to kill, this animalist need? It's in my DNA.


	5. Science Fiction

**I have pretty much configured at least halfway through the entire plot of this story. You guys are in for such a ride XD. I'm evil, I know. **

**I do want to take moment to thank you all very much for your continued support, suggestions, reviews, and just everything. Thank you all so very much! **

**This series is my crowning glory at this point, and I thank you all for joining me through it XD**

**Also, update, Divergent is still winning on my story requests! Keep it up guys! **

**Thank you all again, have a fabulous day!**

Spencer P.O.V

The case went by quickly. The Unsub was apprehended, and we were able to save three would-be victims just in time. They would all make a full recovery.

"I'm not taking the plane back," Alex stated, as the rest of us were in the lobby while JJ checked us out of the hotel.

"Are you sure?" Hotch looked doubtful. "It's a long flight back if you stay with the plane, and we all worked hard today."

She shrugged. "Haven't gone for a fly in a long time, it'll do me good."

Hotch still didn't look convinced, but nodded nonetheless.

It was surprising how fast the team had gotten used to what Alex really was. How quickly they'd accepted it, adjusted to it.

"Alright," Alex grinned. "I'll stay close for communication purposes."

Morgan smiled, picking up his bags. "Let's go home."

**CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM CMCMCMCMCM**

"How you doing out there?" Prentiss called through her phone.

Alex coasted by the window, hair flying back, a grin firmly in place. "I am doing fabulously. A little chilly, small downcast wind, but not a cloud in the sky. Looks like we're in for an easy ride tonight."

With that, she ended the call, rising up and out of sight.

"It's just so… crazy," JJ kept her voice low.

"It's definitely something you have to get used to," Morgan agreed.

"Hello my crime-fighting superheroes!" Just then, Garcia's image popped up on the screen, coffee cup in hand.

"Superheroes huh?" Prentiss grinned.

"Where's Alex?" Garcia asked, glancing as much as she could around the plane.

"Out there," JJ pointed to a nearby window.

"Wow…" she trailed off.

"We were just saying," Morgan continued. "How… different it is."

"You know," Garcia sighed. "If it weren't for the horribly sad and creepy science stalker guy, I'd think it was a beautiful thing. I mean she's like an _angel._ Like a superhero come to life or something. It's like something you read out of a science fiction novel. The crime fighting Raven, or something like that."

"She's happy though," I confirmed. "It was just a lot of stress, a lot of expectations."

"I can imagine," Rossi commented. "Especially knowing that he was still out there, after all that time."

"But he's not anymore," Hotch looked up from his case file.

"Jones will never get out from where he is right now. Not even a chance at parole. It's over."

A comfortable silence followed.

Prentiss kept to looking out the window, watching Alex.

JJ sat down to play a game of cards with Rossi and Morgan, while Hotch kept up a light conversation with Garcia.

It was over. Everybody was safe. Everything was okay.

Wasn't it?


	6. The Perfect Part

**Hello All! Welcome to Chapter six, please be ready to hate me forever XD **

***Cue the suspense***

**Review! Thank you!**

**P.S Divergent is still winning! **

My name? Jenny. A simple, happy, friendly, welcoming name.

I am proud to say that I am a close member of Felix Jones family.

He loves us all so much. He has so many _fans_ like me, and when he asked us all for help, we were more than willing to comply.

_June 7__th__, 2007_

"_What is your name dear?" His voice is calm and sophisticated._

_Felix never panics. _

"_Jenny."_

_My voice however, is small and nervous compared to his stature._

_He tilts his head slightly to the left, studying me. _

"_Why are you nervous my dear?"_

"_I-I just," I curse myself for stuttering. "I really want the part."_

"_Tell me why you think you deserve it."_

"_Well," I sit forward, a smile on my face, just as I've practiced. "I've killed twelve people. All in the city of Washington D.C, right under the Governments nose. And I was never caught. I made easy disposal of the bodies, most of them haven't been found yet."_

_He nodded his head in what I hoped was approval. "Why do you want this particular part?"_

"_She's a challenge. And I've found my kills so far… too easy. I want something harder."_

"_You know what I think?" He leans forward in his chair, a small smile in place. "I think you have a very particular… drive about you, that makes you perfect for it. This will be your chapter, and when the time comes, I can guarantee that she will be yours."_

It was so easy to take a life.

Especially a _human_ life.

Such a simple task, yet such power hides behind that single bullet.

I've been watching her for days now, such a long time for me, considering my sleep schedule is limited. This wasn't going to be as hard as I expected.

And now, just as Felix said, the time is _perfect. _She is in the middle of a very busy city, the news will spread fast.

The gun is already set up, as if waiting for me to make my move.

I grip the trigger with one hand; steady the scope with the other.

This was my favorite part. The thrill, like when you get away with stealing. Will I be caught? Will I get away? You don't know.

I take my aim.

Oh this is so _fun!_

I have nothing against her. Never even met her. But I _wanted _this. She needed to be removed anyways.

Line up my shot perfectly.

I will not miss today.

And now, with itching fingers, the moment I've been waiting for.

I pull the trigger.

The beautiful sound of gunfire rings through the air, and multiple people duck at the sound.

But she never had time.

I watch it now, almost in slow motion, her body slump to the ground, a pool of crimson surrounding her head.

She never even got the chance to close her eyes.

I've done my part.

I can only hope that Felix will be pleased with my work.

I pick up the phone; dial the number I've worked so hard to remember.

My chapter is over.

Now, someone else's will begin.


	7. What Fresh Hell

Spencer P.O.V

It was raining. Hard. Only a few inches away from flood raining. Torrents of it, coming down in sheets.

I couldn't help but get just a little bit worried.

Of course Alex has chosen today to go out and bring the police files to the station on the other side of the city.

It was only a twenty minute flight for her, but not five minutes after she left did the storm start.

Today had started as a regular day, spent filling in files and wishing we could all go home. The paperwork seemed endless. But then, the power had gone out, and it was almost as if there was some unspoken law, that meant that we didn't have to work anymore. So, we'd all filed into the round-table room as Garcia went around with flashlights and candles.

"I hope Alex made it alright," Prentiss kept herself seated by the window.

"I'm sure she did," I assured. "These clouds aren't that accumulated, she was probably able to get above them."

"In the meantime," Hotch stated, taking a seat. "The roads aren't cleared for travel yet, I think we all just stay put for now."

"Hey, where's Strauss?" Morgan asked, carefully making his way back from the hallway. "She's not in her office."

"Chief Strauss either got caught on the road, or made it home fine," Hotch clarified. "She left right before it started."

"Sometimes I think she plans these things to happen to us," Rossi scoffed.

"Well I wouldn't be surprised," JJ agreed.

A few minutes later, two decks of cards were out, everyone settled, the easy, sarcastic comebacks already starting.

That is, until Alex came bursting through the door.

**CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM**

If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought she'd never met us.

You couldn't tell the difference from then and now.

Something had happened.

She was livid, jaw locked, her eyes guarded, in less than a second, surveying the room as if it contained strangers.

She was completely soaked through, but that seemed the last thing she cared about.

"You," she turned on Hotch, her eyes turning to slits.

Before he could even properly stand, she'd slammed him up against the nearest wall, nothing but cold fury in her eyes.

By now, we were all up, standing on edge. What the hell was going on?

"Alex!" Morgan looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "What the hell are you doing?"

She paid him no attention, her gaze locked on Hotch.

"You told me that Felix Jones was locked up," she snarled, no emotion present in her voice.

If this weren't Hotch, hell even if it was one of us, I'm sure anyone at the receiving end of her anger would be terrified right about now.

"He is," Hotch stated calmly. "And he will be. For the rest of his life."

She let him go, backing up slightly, surveying the rest of us, as if just now realizing that it was us. And then she just… stopped.

For a few painfully silent minutes, she did nothing but pace, warming her hands, a small smile on her face.

Now she was directly in front of Hotch, her cold, angry gaze caught in his firm one.

And just like that, she burst out laughing. Shaking her frame, yet her smile remained placid.

"It's funny though," she laughed.

And she left it at that, looking around the room as if she was seeing it for the first time.

She did this for several minutes, and none of us dared move to stop her, even touch her.

We still didn't even know what had happened, but whatever it was had snapped a wire.

That's when she just…broke.

We knew she carried it with her, but never acknowledged the black pocket knife.

Now we couldn't ignore it, because in the next second, with a flick of her wrist, it was lodged in the opposite wall, at least five feet away.

"_Goddammit!"_

Again now, she had Hotch in a grip, one we all know he couldn't get away from if he tried.

"You know, maybe you can tell me," she hissed, a wicked grin on her face, almost childlike.

She was animalistic. A predator playing with her pray.

"If Felix Jones is locked up," she growled. "Then who the hell shot my best friend's head open?"

The words carried a heavy silence over the room, its meaning suffocating us.

Silver was dead.

"_Can you tell me?" _She screeched.

She let him go again, as if she was battling with herself.

"Can any of you," she turned to the rest of us, her smile still in place. "Explain?"

Nothing but a resounding silence met her plead.

She laughed again. A cold, cruel, heartless laugh.

"I didn't think so."

**Mwa. Ha. Ha. Enough has been said. **


	8. Lost Alone Now what?

**Hello Imaginaries! **

**Sorry about my updating… once again. **

**Quick update, the Hunger Games took a surging leap forward in my little contest, with Criminal Minds directly behind!**

**Keep it up!**

**Anyways, I don't know if any of you would be interested, but I posted a quick Criminal Minds One-Shot titled 'Can't help me now' if any of you would want to check that out…?**

**Thanks again for all your support, and reading, and reviewing and all that good stuff XD**

Alex P.O.V

Lost.

That's the best word I can use.

It's so… weird. Lost. It's just a small, four letter word, which can mean a number of things, yet always means the exact_ same_ thing.

Lost physically, as in you have absolutely no idea where you are. You're confused, and just want to find your way back to wherever it is you were planning to go.

Lost mentally, as in you're bat-shit crazy. Your mind is useless; you can't even put a string of words together to create a thought. You're a hopeless cause.

Lost… in grief. Someone you needed, someone you depended on, is gone. And you don't know what to do, or where to turn. Because that one person you _would_ turn to, is the exact same person that you _lost._

I should be using words like lugubrious, melancholy, pessimistic even.

Demoralized, despondent, crestfallen.

Words that carry a very specific meaning, a scientific term for what I am feeling.

But _lost?_ It has a number of meanings, all set into different situations, different hypotheticals.

Such a small, biased, _simple_ word, to describe any number of emotions.

It's not that I don't trust my team. I do. I would say that I'd trust them with my life, but I've already done that.

But I don't think you understand.

I was raised, _trained_ to _never_ completely trust a person. So, without realizing I was even doing it, there was always some part of me, closed off to everyone. Even Spencer.

An off-limits space in my mind, a cold, rejected place in my soul, someplace that nobody had managed to reach.

Almost nobody.

It was the place in my life where my family would've been kept.

The area of my mind that responds to the words 'mom' and 'dad'.

And I now realize… that's where Silver was.

She was the sister that I'd never had.

See, that area of myself refused to open up to these people, but I never realized it, because in the back of my mind, I was expecting this whole thing to literally crash and burn. I was expecting for all of them to be dead by now.

But somehow… that had been okay.

Because no matter how much emotional torture I was to endure, how much pain, no matter how many pieces my soul and sanity would be tore into, I would always have someone to go back to.

Silver was my back up plan.

She knew exactly what not to do, how to react.

She was just as closed off as I was, so there were no emotional moments.

And that's what I'd always needed.

That's what I needed now.

She was the one thing that I could _always _rely on, the one thing that would never mess up, make a mistake, leave me in the dark.

And now… she was gone.

We were so similar, so much alike.

Outcasts in a world of a cruel society.

Rejects.

Two of a kind.

We didn't belong with the rest of them, our lives didn't... mix.

But now, it seemed, I was the last one standing.

Leaving me all alone, and _lost._

_Lost._

Because right now, I don't know where to go, who to turn to.

Huh.

I guess it's not that small of a word after all.


	9. Discoveries

**News! **

**My little contest (or at least part one of it all) has come to a close. **

**You guys really came through, because Criminal Minds came in at a charging first place, quickly followed by Divergent and Hunger Games.**

**Now, I'll guide you to the next step of this little contest in the next chapter, for now, I'll keep my focus on the story.**

**Also, in case you haven't noticed, I've changed my username to: TheMinnesotanInitiate**

**Thank you all so much for your great responses, and reading!**

Hotch P.O.V

Alex's moment of anger was over.

She'd sent herself into a downward spiral, half of it consisting of unparalleled anger, the other contributing towards her self-destruction.

Within the hour of finding out about Silver's death, Alex had demanded a full crime scene investigation. Personally.

None of us could argue otherwise, so the next day, Reid and Alex had left for Las Vegas, where Silver had been staying when she'd been murdered.

She'd acted faster than we'd hoped. We didn't have time to convey sympathy, to help her. She was too hell bent on revenge.

It was a desire that was destroying her, and in the process, breaking Reid apart.

I knew what it was like. I could relate with our youngest agent.

He was watching the one he loved fall apart, and she wasn't letting him help. She was closing him out. She was blocking the world away.

"So what does this mean?"

Garcia was hesitant to ask the question we were all thinking.

Morgan sighed, sitting down next to her. "We don't know."

"It means Felix Jones has another plan," Rossi stood from his chair, moving next to the window.

"Are we sure?" Prentiss asked uncertainly. "It could have been a complete coincidence. People die on a regular basis in Las Vegas."

"With Silver? Alex? Jones?" JJ snorted. "No, I don't think coincidences are possible in that triangle."

"I think," Rossi continued. "He set someone up to do the job."

"But why?" Prentiss asked. "How? From what we know, Jones was working alone during that whole time."

"We'll never know how a man like this gets things done," I admitted. "He has no form of communication with the outside world, let alone contact."

"I think he wanted to send Alex a message," Rossi suggested. "Let her know that he's not done."

As awful as the idea was, there was no other option.

JJ was right. A coincidence with these particular people was highly unlikely.

"Alright," I sighed. "Everybody go home, get some sleep. We'll come back in tomorrow and see what Alex and Reid have got for us in the morning."

I prayed that each member of my team got good sleep tonight. And the night after that. And the night after that.

They were going to need it.

Something told me that this, this was just the beginning.

**CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM CMCMCMCMC**

Reid P.O.V

The ride to Vegas was silent, stoic. At one point, I'd considered trying to get her to talk, let her vent, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

She was hurting. More than any of us could even begin to comprehend.

Silver had been closer to Alex than any I fear any of us ever would.

In the hours it had taken to get to Vegas, I'd learned that most physical contact of any kind sent her stiff, her breathing hitch and heightened in the slightest. Nobody outside of our team would've noticed the difference. But I did.

She was afraid.

Alex Night was afraid.

Of what?

I didn't know.


	10. Get out Alive

**I'm sorry about my bad updating, but I'm hoping you may be used to it by now. Promise I'll try and do better! Sorry guys!**

Alex P.O.V

Las Vegas.

I suppose I now could completely relate as to why it was called Sin City.

I'd been harsh and cruel to the local PD, cutting them no slack, and correcting them any chance I could get. They needed to know that I meant business.

I hadn't cried when they showed me her body, hadn't even flinched. It only made my anger more prominent, my need for revenge more protracting.

I suppose that should scare me.

But it doesn't.

I knew I was shutting Spencer out as well, but maybe that was for the better.

I'd left him to deal with further evidence, and I'd ditched. I had work of my own to do.

A few alley way turns, and about five minutes of walking after I'd left the police headquarters, I came to my destination.

I knew that shitty old bar by heart.

Knew that there was always an extra bottle of Scotch and Whiskey under the third cabinet to the left, and new that no matter where in the bar you sat, you always had the possibility of getting clipped by a bullet or a blade.

Mickey's was not a welcoming bar to the passing tourist.

It was full of bikers and criminals, a few murderers on the run. It was a shithole; even the best renovators in the city had given up on its repair. Drinks were overpriced, it constantly smelled of cigarettes, and you had a decent chance of getting shot.

But it was the closest thing I'd had to a permanent settlement.

Walking into the loud building, I kept my head down and my hand gripped around the trigger.

FBI Agent or not, I wasn't going to hesitate when it came to my own safety.

Slowly but surely I forced my way to the bar, carefully shoving my way through the crowd.

It was there I found my person of interest, serving out Scotch as if it were water.

Black eyes pierced into mine, and he grinned a devilish smile.

"Alex Night," his voice was dry and taught. "Now what brings you back to our fine establishment?"

"I should be asking the same of you," I replied dryly. "You're supposed to be in London right now."

"Plans changed."

"That's not a very good answer."

"Better than what you're giving me," he questioned. "Still don't know what you're doing here."

I shrugged. "Silver's dead."

He nodded. "I heard."

"That wouldn't happen to be why you're down here would it?"

I knew I could trust him, but at this point, I couldn't rule anybody out.

Sure enough, Damon shot me that famous crooked smirk, his liquid black eyes taunting me.

"Come on now," he teased. "Would I do that?"

"Depends. Why are you here?"

"Listen sweetheart, we could do this all day, or I could tell you what you need to know. And I don't have all day. Something tells me neither do you."

"What's the catch?"

"You're a sharp one Night," he grinned. "Information like this is definitely going to cost you."

I sighed.

Cocky bastard.

"How much?"

"Whatever you've got in your wallet and a passport."

"You've already got one."

"I never said it was for me."

"Who am I helping out then?"

His tone was suddenly deadly serious, his eyes now pleading with me.

"You know."

Oh.

I did know.

Good old Damon.

This kid was younger than me, and though I tried to avoid playing mommy, his life had been torn apart because of Jones. So, after he stubbornly refused to back away and leave this all alone, he became one of our valuable resources.

But about a year back, Damon made a mistake. In fact, the same one I'd just made.

He fell in love.

With Silver dead, that meant an inexplicable and immediate connection to Jones. Just because he was in jail didn't mean this was over.

He was still alive.

And that's all it would take.

The stakes were higher, and we were all in danger.

Damon was a close and trusted friend, but the way he stood now, a protective stance over the one person he needed more than anybody else told me the one thing I needed to know.

_She dies, and it's on you._

She died, and Damon would make me pay, one way or another.

This was his offer.

I owed him this.

And he had what I needed.

I sighed again, digging into my back pocket.

"Deal."

That one word seemed enough to make him visibly relax.

I managed to shell out a few hundred bucks.

He pocketed the money quickly, nodding his thanks. "I'll be expecting the passport as soon as you get back to Quantico."

"Fine. Now tell me."

He sighed.

"Few days before Silver was murdered, Avery got a virus. We thought it was just some company scam, we suspected nothing. But before we knew it, our whole system had been shut down and compromised. By time we got it up and running again… Every single thing on Jones and his paper trail was gone."

If I didn't know any better I'd say this wasn't a big deal. I could just shrug, take my money back, and reassure him that he was overreacting, that Jones was locked up, never to see the light of day again.

But I'd be lying.

"According to the British Embassy, Felix Jones never existed."

"Did Avery get out okay?"

Damon and Avery had definitely butted heads from the start, never saw eye to eye on anything, but towards the end they'd formed a love-hate brother-sister relationship.

He nodded. "She's in Canada. She's trying to get back all the information she lost."

There were a few moments of silence.

"You made a mistake," I kept my voice low. "Coming back here."

He shrugged. "I knew you'd be around after Silver. You were my only trusted chance."

"You didn't have to do this. You're putting yourself in a lot of danger."

He gave me a coy smile. "Alex, Alex. Aren't you doing the same thing?"

I was about to comeback with a witty, smart comment or a wise reply to make him think. But he had me stuck. He was right.

He smiled at my silence. "That's what I thought."

I decided I'd change the subject.

"Do you know where she is right now?"

He nodded. "She's safe for now, but that won't last long. I'm getting her out as soon as I'm done here."

I watched him for a few moments.

My profiling skills caught things I wouldn't have before this job.

Despite his calm exterior, he was nervous. He was desperate. And it wasn't until he turned to the left to get another bottle that I saw, he also had a gun.

He was ready.

I left without saying goodbye.

We both had what we needed, formalities weren't necessary.

The Vegas sunlight made my head pound after being in the musty bar for however long.

I took a deep breath.

I needed to do exactly what I'd done before.

I needed to set my grief aside, build myself back up.

Because something was coming. Something that could mutilate whatever lives we'd manage to build.

And I didn't know what it was, or when it would get here.


	11. Wishful Thinking

**OH my god guys I am so, so sorry. I took a bit of a vacation and I'm really sorry that I haven't been updating or anything in so long. So sorry for my lack of updating but I promise you, no more! ** **I am officially home for the rest of the summer and have consistent thoughts and Wi-Fi. **

**I'M BACK BITCHES.**

**So sorry once again, I feel awful.**

**Review and all that fun jazz, just so I know who's still here! **

**Thank you all for reading, and have a fabulous day!**

Spencer and I returned to the BAU that day, with what would normally be a shit load of very good evidence.

Bullet fragments, profile of the victim, we'd even narrowed down the building where the shooter had been, identified what model of gun was used.

But in our case, none of this would suffice.

We needed names, and that was going to be impossible to get.

After my semi-threatening brush with Damon, I made a point to get to Garcia as soon as I got back.

Damon was now almost as resourceful as we were, he would know when I returned, and it was my turn to hold up my end of the deal.

I won't tell you her name for safety's sake (I mean what's the point of the whole protection thing without anonymity?) but I can tell you that it was going to be difficult for us to hide her tracks.

She'd worked with Damon for many years as Agents of sorts for the British Embassy. They did the dirty work, collecting information in not so nice ways.

To put it bluntly, they were killers for the British Government.

American born and raised-however awful their background stories are- it was easy for the two to go undercover as clueless tourists, finding their targets and finishing the job in under a weak.

They were the high praised, crowning glory for the Embassy.

But it was a job that destroyed you.

And it was during those times that they found solace in eachother.

I've seen the two in action, together. They were magnetized, moved as if they were one force.

The bond holding them together ran deep. I doubt I'll ever see a love so strong in my lifetime. Without the other, one would simply break. All the insanity and horrors from the job, the fears that the other chased away would bear over them like never before.

And now, because of the same man who'd destroyed many lives, Damon was in danger of losing that. That one person who kept him sane and whole.

Because of me.

Jones knew I had a motherly affection for the kid, and God knows he loves to play with me.

So this was her last chance of survival, and his last chance of sanity.

Riding on me.

If I messed this up it was done. Damon would break, and odds are I'd have another person trying to kill me.

"_Alex!"_

The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts.

Garcia had a file in her hand, looking at me worriedly waving her free hand in front of my face.

"Shit, sorry PG," I mumbled, carefully taking the file from her hand. "All there?"

She quickly nodded reassuringly, a small smile of hope on her face. "All there. I've got ID's, passports, credit cards, even a birth certificate. I made a nice little background story for her too, all new records. She's a whole new person."

"Thank you Garcia," I forced a small smile.

"Anything sugar," she said quietly.

She seemed to hesitate a moment, pressing her lips together in a thin line before she decidedly took my hand in hers.

"We're going to be just fine Dove," she smiled. "You wait. We're all going to be just fine."

An alien feeling of warmth spread through my stomach, something I hadn't felt in mere days, but it felt like it's been a century since that feeling.

Without a warning, I pulled Garcia out of her chair, and into my arms, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She pulled back, patting my right wing through my jacket with a bright smile.

"We do anything for family Alex," she reminded me. "It's my pleasure."

"Now come on," she pulled my hand, leading me out of her office. "We've been here for so long, we're going to go get the rest of the girls and we're having a movie night."

I rewarded her with a light laugh and a smile.

"Maybe," she purred. "A little special shopping, something nice for Spencer to see later?"

I couldn't help the blush that formed, and my grin only grew.

The warm feeling spread even farther, warming my bones, relaxing my muscles.

And it was that feeling… that feeling of love and belonging that got me thinking maybe… just maybe I could get through this.


	12. Running from Death

**Damon**

Thank whatever power stood over this earth.

The package had been sent express, and I got it not one day after meeting with Alex.

Alex had been sincere, she'd held up her end of the deal beautifully. I had what I needed and more to get us safely across the borders of any country.

We would be safe.

I quickly left the apartment I'd been residing in, directly above Mickey's bar where I'd managed to scrap up a few hundred bucks in tips during the past few weeks.

I couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt and remorse for what had happened to Silver. Over the months of contact regarding international travel, we'd formed a nice friendship.

Now she was in a morgue somewhere.

Despite the Las Vegas heat, the thought alone seemed to chill me to my core.

If it could happen to Silver, one of the greats… any one of us would be easy for the picking…

Any one of us.

Alice.

Beautiful green eyes, flecks of blue creating the perfect recreation of the sea.

Dark blond hair that stopped just past her shoulders, a bright smile on her face, a grin like that of a lions.

A predator, she could not be outsmarted or tricked.

A dangerous beauty.

My Alice.

And then, with the thought of the girl I loved, came a chilling image that I could not stop.

Her beautiful eyes dimmed to nothing but a bare nothingness, all personality lost.

Taunting smile gone, lips stained red with blood.

Ivory skin turned ashen from blood loss.

_If it could happen to Silver, it could happen to any of us._

With that grim thought in mind, my thoughts immediately jumped to the next dark event that would follow.

A life without Alice meant a world of dark taunting teasing memories, the haunts of the dead, laughing as I would spiral and slip my way down to insanity, a personal hell created just for me. Nightmares of those I'd killed would return, and soon I'd stop sleeping all together. I would be the last one standing, because she would be _dead,_ she'd be gone and there would be absolutely nothing else in this fucked up world that could-

_No. _

I cut off my own thoughts, scowling at myself for letting it get that far.

We were going to be fine.

Jones had destroyed hundreds of lives; Alex had more than 150 contacts.

Out of all of those, all the others he had to choose from, she could _not_ be a primary target.

I would see her again. And then we'd leave together. Somewhere safe, wait for all of this to blow over. Live our lives together, just like we'd always planned.

Alice and I would survive.

I sighed at the comforting thought, sliding into the driver's seat.

And yet, as a started the car and quickly found my way to the nearest freeway, I couldn't shake the small voice in the back of my head, a remembrance of a lesson I'd learned long ago.

_Death does not like to be cheated. _


	13. Distress Call

**Alex**

I couldn't remember being so relaxed.

Garcia had kept up with her reputation of working miracles well, as sure enough; she'd rounded up JJ and Prentiss and we were off on the town.

We'd pillaged and plundered every store within a five mile radius, sparing no expense every time a piece of clothing caught our eyes.

After our shopping spree, we'd headed over to a classy bar Garcia and the girls had discovered after a stressful case.

The bar was mild, but we definitely had to yell to hear eachother over the constant chatter.

After tipping off the host, we were brought to a booth near the back.

Prentiss slid in next to me while Garcia and JJ sat across from us.

"So," JJ wasted no time in conversation. "Spence mentioned that you disappeared for a while back in Vegas," she smiled. "What, decide to do some last minute gambling?"

"Um, no," I paused for a fraction of a second, deciding that it would be the perfect time to take a drink. "I met up with an old friend. He had some information that might help us."

"Um, no!" Garcia nearly yelled, shooting her hand across the table, pressing a well-manicured fingernail to my lips.

"This is a _girl's_ night, and we are not going to single-handedly destroy that reputation with awful, messy, work talk," she explained.

"Yeah, Garcia's right," Prentiss joined in. "So _I _would like to make a toast," she grinned, holding up our bottle of red wine.

"To relaxing from all the shitty drudgeries of work, and for once God please, can we just have _fun!_"

"I'll drink to that," JJ grinned at me.

"Hell I'll drink to anything," I shot back.

"Oh!" Garcia was suddenly very excited about something. "Guys, I saw the _best_ little dress boutique on our way here, and Alex before you cringe at my words, I saw some wonderful black beauties for you too, and so after we're done here, that's where we are."

"You got it PG," Prentiss grinned, taking another drink.

Yeah, this was going to be a good night.

**Damon**

This was bad.

This was so, so bad.

This was just the kind of thing he needed, the perfect excuse to move in.

This was supposed to be a thing of joy and happiness but now it would only make our lives so much worse.

"Damon?"

She stood before me, eyes wide with fear. She knew what this meant.

Okay.

Pull it together Damon, you need to get help.

Help.

Right.

"Go," I'd somehow managed to find my voice, horse and quiet. "Pack everything you can, wait for me in the car."

She didn't move, frozen. Her breathing was accelerating, and she nearly jumped when I reached to touch her arm.

"Alice," I struggled to try and keep my voice level and calm for her sake. "Alice baby, look at me. Come on, please look at me."

"Damon what the hell are we going to do," she whispered. "We don't have anybody we don't know anyone that can _help_ this."

I stared at her for a moment, letting myself appreciate how beautiful she truly was.

No. She was wrong.

We did know someone.

"No," she backed away as if reading my thoughts. "We can't ask this of her. Our business with her, is _over._ She's done too much for us as it is Damon."

"Alice it's our best shot, and I am _not _taking the risk of doing otherwise."

She stood there for a few moments, and I could practically see her mind working to find another solution.

And by the expression she held, I knew she couldn't find one.

"Come on," I whispered, pulling her closer.

"Are we going to be okay?" I could hear her struggle to get the words out.

I hardened my grip around her body, holding her against me, pressing a kiss to her head.

"_You_ are going to be just fine my dear," I smiled. "You're going to be just fine."

She sighed against me, and we both knew I hadn't answered her question.

She'd asked if _we_ were going to be okay.

And all I knew, was that she had to be.

Because Alice, _my_ Alice, she was now in so much more danger then I could have thought.

No country on the planet could stop him now, because it was this kind of thing that he fed off of, prayed on.

This was where he got his fix, where he decided to pleasure himself.

And this was why we needed outside help.

Alice was pregnant.


	14. Outlaws turning in

**Alex**

The sight of someone such as Damon was a strange thing to see in a place of law, let alone a place such as the BAU.

I had gotten the call halfway through my night with the girls, already tipsy from one too many glasses of wine; I answered the phone with a laugh at the sight of Hotch's name on my collar I.D.

"_You need to come in."_

I'd only laughed harder.

After all, what could I possibly be needed for now?

He wouldn't tell me why, but with a childish pout and an exasperated sigh, we all piled back into a cab, and were dropped back off to our workplace.

What I saw was a sight that sobered me up almost instantly.

Damon stood at a lean 6'1, with a slender muscled physique, and chiseled features that could intimidate even someone such as me. With a prominent jaw line, smoldering black eyes, and a devilish grin that would make the most innocent good girl very, very bad, Damon gave off the classic bad by vibe that Hollywood would fall in love with.

Wearing a slim black t-shirt that clung to his skin, loose black jeans, dark brown, well-worn leather jacket, and steel toed boots, he obviously didn't belong under somebody else's rule.

So why was he standing in the round table room, with a hardened look that meant nothing but trouble?

I really didn't want to know.

But what really slapped me in the face, was the petite blond next to him.

I'd only met Alice under a few circumstances, but I knew enough to know that Damon wouldn't bring her just anywhere. In their line of work, they made lots of skilled enemies. Damon's number one priority was keeping her safe, and here he was keeping her out in the open.

Alice Devroe was small. She had the looks of a glam model, with pink pouty lips, loose blond curls and shocking sea colored eyes. She looked like the good girl of your school, class president. But I knew well enough that looks could be deceiving.

I'd seen her kill a man with nothing but a paperclip.

From what I could tell, she'd already figured out the fastest escape route out of every room she'd seen in the building. There was a reason she was one of the most successful hit men in the world. She knew how to kill, and she knew how to do it fast.

The two seemed to have beauty and good looks hardwired into their DNA. Both had spent their fair share under the needle in labs just like mine, so for all I knew, maybe they did.

Either way, neither looked like they belonged in an office.

So naturally, there was one question that was relentlessly running through my head.

_What the fuck are they doing here?_

Before I could surge forward to get my answer, my vision of the pair was blocked by none other than an equally confused Aaron Hotchner. Not that he physically looked confused, of course. Same Hotchner glare, staring me right down, with a slight tint of '_Alex, what did you do now?'_

"Who are they?" His question was asked in monotone.

I threw him a placid smile. "Friends."

He raised a questioning eyebrow, casting a glance back at Garcia who had quickly switched to mother hen mode, cheerily offering coffee. Alice was being very sweet, smiling and trying to start conversation. Damon however, was staring her down as if she'd poisoned the drink.

"Friends," Morgan repeated, with a confused look.

Shit.

"Listen guys," I shrugged my way around Hotch, slowly backing towards the two. "I can explain everything in a second; just let me see what they want first?"

I let out a sigh through grit teeth, smiling as I entered the round table room. Garcia took my entrance as her cue to leave, closing the door shut behind her.

I leaned forward, placing my palms on the table, looking up at the two. "What the hell are you doing Damon? You know you can't just pop up like this."

"Alex."

The urgent tone in his voice had me standing, looking him in the eyes.

He kept his calm exterior, but there was a hidden sense of panic behind his coal black eyes.

"What's going on?"

I finally found the nerve to ask the question.

It was Alice who stepped forward, apologies written in her sea green eyes.

"I'm pregnant."

The statement stunned me to silence.

For a moment, my head was wiped clean of all thoughts.

And then, one by one, thoughts relating to the subject came flying back.

Pregnant.

A child.

Experiments, tests, doctors.

Injection.

The killing of the family.

Jones was locked up.

_So what?_

There were still followers, still a mission. Silver's murder had proven that much.

Felix or not, the experiment was still running.

Alice would be killed (the mothers always were) the child taken. Worse, Damon brought back into a cage to continue his testing.

"You're sure?" Though it was just the three of us, I kept my voice low.

Our eyes locked, and she nodded.

"Okay."

I paced back and forth for a few minutes, weighing my options.

Of course, part of me already knew what I needed to do.

I gave them a reassuring smile.

"Two more law breakers around here can't be so bad can it?"

I saw Damon slowly react to what I'd said, his muscles unclenching, letting his hands relax at his side.

"Thank you," Alice let out a breath. "Thank you so much."

Damon said nothing, simply nodded his thanks.

"Now," I shot a coy smile. "You mind helping me explain this to the FBI?"

**Hey guys! **

**Thank you all for reading, and keep up the reviews!**


	15. Mother?

**Alice**

I always knew Damon was protective. From the moment I met him, I knew he would take a bullet for someone he cared about. But as my years of working with him grew on I found myself questioning just who that was.

I'd always waited, expecting a picture of a girl to come up, some lost childhood friend whom he'd left to protect, much like he'd left to protect his mother and father from his brothers fate.

So one night, at some cruddy hotel in the middle of Kansas, I'd asked him.

"_Damon, who do you love?"_

_I stood by the window, leaning against the wall keeping an eye out for any sign of the federal squad who'd just been chasing us. We'd grown up in America, but we'd forgotten how patriotic it was here. _

_Apparently they don't take it too well when you put a bullet through a Congress members head. _

_He turned to face me, letting the encryption codes on the computer screen run on their own. For a moment, his glare was just as expressionless as always, cold and calculating, his head turned at an angle, studying me. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out, looking up at me. Our eyes locked and his expression softened only the slightest, yet he remained deadly stoic._

_He shrugged, clasping his hands behind his head._

"_You."_

_I lost myself. Lost my hard edge lost my expert poker face, lost my calculations and examinations. I stood there, opening my mouth slightly as if to ask a question. No sound came out, and I found myself standing before him, arms loose at my sides, mouth open in shock._

_He let out a low chuckle, a small smirk twitching at his lips. "You really haven't figured it out yet, have you?"_

_I couldn't say a word. I couldn't even tell you my own name. _

_It was then he stood, and in three long strides, he'd crossed the room. Before I could do anything to protest or react, his hands roughly pulled my hips against his, lips capturing mine without hesitation. He backed me up against the wall, his tongue sliding across my bottom lip, not asking for entrance, simply taking it. After quickly making do with my mouth, his lips moved across my jawline, teeth lightly nipping down my neck before his lips found my collarbone. He bit down on my skin as he pulled away, mischief in his eyes and a wolfish grin showing dazzling teeth. _

_Pressing another kiss to my neck and jawbone, he pressed my forehead against his, our eyes locking. _

"_The answer to your question," he spoke, a playful, rough tone to his voice. "Is you. Its always been," he grinned. "You." _

"_I…" My voice was quiet and soft spoken. For the first time I could recall, he'd rendered me speechless. And yet I knew the precise words to say, the ones I could finally speak in confidence. _

"_I kind of love you too."_

_He placed a light kiss to my shoulder, chuckling against my skin. I could feel the low laugh in his throat. _

"_I know."_

_With those words spoken, he hoisted me up, and on reaction my legs wrapped around his waist as he greedily dipped his head down to press his lips to mine again, his hands weaving around my back, gripping my neck. Holding my body close to his, he walked across to the other side of the room, his lips never leaving mine as he pressed me down against the bed. He broke for just a second, a devilish grin gracing his features. _

"_Trust me Alice, I know."_

That night wasn't gentle, and it wasn't romantic. There isn't exactly a special element to loudly fucking at two in the morning in a shitty hotel. That wasn't how it was every time, but that's how it happened the first. And it was one of those many nights to follow that led us to this situation now. But I'd come to realize that Damon did love me, with a ferocity I hadn't expected. I'd known for some time, that though keeping emotions out of the way was part of the job, I'd come to love him with every fiber of my being, everything I had, and everything I was.

But now something was threatening to take all of that away.

Parenthood.

Was that really something we could handle? I could see Damon as a loving father, I really could. He would complete devote himself towards making the best life possible for our child, and I would do everything I could to ensure the proper love and care that a mother was supposed to give would be delivered.

Damon might be as cold and unforgiving to the world as it was to him, but he had a side that nobody else would ever see.

Yes, we were mature enough to handle being parents.

The real question was, would we live long enough to see it happen?


	16. Just Beginning

**Alex**

Right. This would be easy. I had two renegade government killers, who had unknown DNA splices thanks to experimentation in early childhood, both of which had killed one or more American political figure on order from the Embassy, one of them was pregnant, and the other had a temper to kill.

I got this.

I gathered the others back into the round table room. Apparently after the girls and I had left, the others had stayed back to finish up some routine paperwork. I noticed JJ nursing a coffee, trying to sober herself, while Prentiss sported sunglasses; Garcia still had shopping bags in her hands.

I motioned for the others to sit down, and I could immediately tell they were nervous. The last time I did this, they found out I wasn't entirely human. But hey, if they could handle that, this would be no big deal, right?

"Okay," I led Damon and Alice to the front, as if to put them on display. "This is the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We have the head of the team, Aaron Hotchner, our technical analyst Penelope Garcia, Media Liaison Jennifer Jareau, Agents Derek Morgan, David Ross, Emily Prentiss, and Doctor Spencer Reid," I pointed out each member of my team as I spoke, and couldn't help but notice that they were all staring at me, waiting to see what stunt I was trying to pull.

"Behavioral Analysis Unit, this is Damon Kelve and Alice Devroe."

Silence. They were waiting for an explanation.

Finally after minutes of wrestling with my thoughts of just how to explain this, it was Hotch who broke the deafening quiet.

"Are they like you?"

I let out a sigh of relief I didn't even realize I was holding in.

"Yes," I nodded. "But we're not sure… how."

"What do you mean?" Rossi questioned.

"We don't really know… what they are."

"We have speculations," Damon surprised me by speaking up. "But we're not positive."

"Couldn't you get a DNA test?" Prentiss asked.

Damon let out a short laugh. "Yeah, that would work. Hey doc, don't freak but I have animal blood in me, just need to know which one."

"Not to be rude…" JJ was tentative. "But why are you here?"

"Alice is pregnant," I answered firmly. "Damon's the father."

Just to clear that up.

"Congratulations!" Garcia smiled up at Damon in an attempt to lighten him up. "But… why is that a problem?"

"They've been tracking you."

It would Reid who had spoken up, having already figured out our problem.

Alice nodded. "No physical evidence has come up yet but we're near certain they know."

"And how do you know that?" Hotch asked politely.

"If we want to live," Damon snapped. "We assume that they're keeping tabs on us at all times."

"Until we know anything for sure," Hotch's voice was calm, but hard. "We have to keep all options open."

"And which one do _you _think seems far more likely?"

You could practically see the tension in the air. Here we had two alphas; one who'd spent his career in charge, and the other who lived by nobody's rules. It was clear Hotch and Damon didn't know how to handle eachother.

"What does this mean?" Garcia, still a little tipsy, didn't seem to understand our problem.

I let out a hiss through my teeth. Time for the big reveal.

"Let's say… for conversation sake that they are indeed tracking Alice and Damon, which in most certainty, they are. If they know of Alice's pregnancy, they will not hesitate to take both parents into captivity. They'll continue their experiments where they left off, and when the child is born, they'll kill Alice without a second thought. The child will be tested on and used for their own purposes."

"What kind of purposes?" It seemed Hotch wanted every detail possible if we were going to do this.

"Guards, soldiers, hit-men, servants, even slaves. Or, they'll dub them unfit to live, and the subject will be killed."

"If Jones is locked up," Morgan sounded very doubtful towards the direction I was heading. "How is all of this still happening? Wasn't the whole thing shut down when we took him in?"

This time Damon really laughed. He looked around at the FBI agents in front of him in utter disbelief. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Damon," Alice seemed to back up in the slightest, as if she feared what he was about to say. "It's useless. There's nothing they could do anyways, you're only going to torture them more."

"No," his tone softened as he turned towards her. "They deserve to know Alice; after all they're the heroes aren't they?"

"Alex, is there something we should know?" Rossi questioned gently.

I sighed. I had figured they had known in the first place. But apparently, they'd allowed themselves to believe that is was finished.

"There's nothing to know Rossi!" Morgan snapped. "This was over the minute Felix Jones was put away."

"Of course it's not," Damon turned back to Morgan, a taunting look in his eyes, as if teasing him to go further. "Don't you see that? It's never over. So, the boss man was locked in a cell, I'm sure there was a second in command. You think a man like Felix Jones didn't plan around something like this?"

"Exactly… how many of… you, are there?" Prentiss asked.

Damon let out a disbelieving snort. "I can't believe I have to work with you people."

"Damon, they're helping us," Alice snapped. "You know that."

"Alice, they're clueless!" He scoffed.

"Answer them," I snapped at him.

He let out another laugh, pulling a chair out and taking a seat. "We don't know. There are facilities all over the country running this project, not to mention the headquarters around the world. There are hundreds of thousands of us. You'd never be able to identify all of us. We're everywhere. And whether you big bad agents want to believe it or not, this whole thing has been going strong. It barely even faltered in the slightest when Jones was locked up."

"Then answer this," Reid's voice was quiet, undemanding. Smart move, as usual for Reid. He knew better than to come off as a threat to these two. "Why have the attacks on Alex stopped?"

"Because it was Jones who had a hard-on for her," Damon scoffed. "Once he was out of the picture, the others didn't care nearly enough to come after her again. Sure, they don't like it when their little science projects escape, but they get over it."

I turned, and in less than a second I was in front of him. "What the hell did you just call me?"

"You heard me," he kept his voice low. "That's what you are. That's what we are. Like it or not. Now, it's time to sit down _princess, _stop being so fucking dramatic. This isn't about _you_ anymore. It's about all of us. Because _nothing_ has changed. You may have gotten lucky but there are still thousands of us out there, living exactly like you did."

This time, he pushed me back, a burning hatred in his eyes as he leaned over me. "Not even all of us are living. Silver died living this life. Running. Killing. Being tormented every _fucking _day. Only to die from a bullet to the head."

"Stop," I barked, trying to back away. His grip only tightened, but I kept my eyes locked with his.

"It's the life my brother died for; it's the life Avery's running from; it's the life a sixteen year old Brooklyn Devroe _killed herself_ over."

"_Damon, stop._"

His head snapped up at the sound of Alice's voice, and with a hesitating final glare in my direction, he backed away.

Just like that, the beast was tamed.

Wait.

_Wait. _

"You…" I nearly stopped myself from asking the question. "You knew Brooklyn?"

"Knew her?" This time it was Alice's turn to laugh.

"She was my sister."


	17. Chocolate Chips and a Quiet Kiss

**So I got quite a few PM requests to see more Alice/Damon fluff so I figured I'd go and do that before I completely rip your hearts out ^.^**

**Glad to hear you guys are enjoying my characters!**

**Damon**

I knew I'd been cruel. Heartless really. But that's how you survive. And I really didn't care. Alex was just as coated as we were, nothing I said had really hurt her, even I knew that.

After explaining to Alex that she had been best friends with Alice's sister before her demise, we left, deciding that the FBI could sort out the rest on their own. We'd given them everything we could provide besides our physical service. But for now, it was their turn. After realizing that her end of our deal was no longer usable, she quickly made the proper tweaks to her assistance. We were given a fully furnished small apartment in the heart of the city, less than five minutes away from the BAU in case of emergency.

I didn't quite know what to think of Alex's Agents. I knew I didn't have a very particular liking for the silent one, what was him name? Hotchner? Maybe I didn't like him simply because he reminded me too much of myself. And I hate myself. I hate what I've done, I hate what I do. But there's one part of me I don't hate. I don't hate the part of me that she has saved, that one corner of my soul that Alice has salvaged from the dark. She proved to me that my blood wasn't ice, my heart wasn't still. Proved that there still was some good left in me. Against every odd that was thrown at me, Alice had let me love again, taught me how to smile and laugh. Taught me how to have fun in the middle of our darkest hours. And it was for that reason that I could not risk the loss of her life. She saved what was left of me, and even managed to rebuild. She was a vibrant light in my darkness, and I intended to keep her that way.

It was in the middle of this promise to myself, that my thoughts were interrupted by the clash of metal. In less than a second, I was on my feet, muscles clenched. I moved swiftly, expecting a fight. Rather than a vicious attacker however, I saw a different struggle occurring. There in the center of our temporary kitchen, stood a disgruntled blonde, trying to force a large cooking sheet into the oven. What she didn't seem to realize, was that she was holding it the wrong way. Nonetheless, I decided to humor myself.

"Alice, babe what are you doing?" I had to fight the smile off my face as I tried to remain confused.

"I," she leaned over, studying what she was doing wrong. "Am _attempting, _now that's a key word here, _attempting_ to make cookies."

"Why cookies love?" Surely she could have thought of something simpler, considering we haven't cooked anything on our own in far too long to just jump right in again.

"Because," she scoffed, as if I should have clearly seen the answer. "We haven't had the utensils, ability, or time to do anything like this in _years_, I figured we should make best of it while we can."

"Alice, the last time you decided to cook out of the blue like this, we were sixteen," I gently reminded her, trying not to laugh. "And we ended up having to pay for a hotel room because you set the kitchen on fire."

"Hold up there hot shot," she smirked up at me from her crouching position in front of the oven. "We didn't pay for shit. We fled the scene in a 'borrowed' taxi."

"As true as that may be," I shrugged. "Not exactly my point."

"Relax asshole," she smirked. "I promise you that nothing is going to burst into flames tonight."

I crouched down next to her, taking the cookie sheet out of her hands.

"Then can you do me a favor?" I asked gently, still controlling my laughter.

I turned the pan around, and it slid easily into the preheated oven.

"Next time, make sure you know which direction the pan goes."

"Mr. Kelve, are you laughing at me?" She forced herself to give me a deadly serious expression, staring me down. But the laughter in her sea colored eyes gave her away, and I smiled at the beautiful sight before me.

I raised my hands in defense. "Never would I do such a scandalous thing my dear!"

I still don't know why we did, but in the next second the both of us were on the floor, laughing our asses off like we never had before. At least not in a long, long time. We laughed so hard we were struggling to breath, and eventually I think she started crying. After our moment of unexplainable hysteria, she sighed, grinning up at the ceiling as I sat up, still chuckling.

"What are we doing here Damon?" Her tone was breathless, soft.

Alice was a thinker. Her thoughts where so much more intelligent than what appeared at first glance. It was why she was so good at what we did. She could trick people into believing she was the most innocent thing on the planet. She was a con, a master of delusion. And when they least expected it, she would strike. Of course, I had learned over the years to detect when she was deceiving, and when she was being truthful. I had a feeling that I was the only one. Not even the top profilers here at the BAU would be able to figure Alice out. And I was grateful that that's how it would stay.

"We're here getting help."

However much I hated the answer, it was what we needed. We literally had no other option this time.

"When this is all over…" she hesitated, as if she were going to add something else, but decided against it, and carried on. "We're going to be parents."

Now there was something.

I hadn't really come to terms with that. How were we, the people who killed for a living, supposed to hang it all up to take care of a kid? I had no experience with children whatsoever, how the hell was I supposed to properly raise one? I wasn't even sure I _liked_ kids, and Alice and I had never discussed the possibility of having a child before. It was never something we worried about.

But now, we had no other choice. And somehow… that was okay. I would do everything within my ability and beyond that, to ensure that my daughter or son had a better life then we did.

"Yeah," I felt a small smile form on my face. "We are."

She suddenly sat up, crossing her legs with a bright smile on her face. She was about to say something, her eyes bright with excitement. And then something went wrong. Her eyes seemed to cloud over, her bright grin quickly faltered, and she suddenly seemed scared.

I knew what was happening.

While most of us (while it wasn't healthy) had managed as best we could to repress the traumas we'd experienced, Alice got sudden spikes of anxiety, moments of sheer panic.

Now, was one of those times.

In less than three seconds, she'd gone from happy and relaxed, to struggling to control her breathing. She looked around the room as if she'd been placed here out of nowhere, and when her eyes rested on me, she nearly jumped, trying to scramble to the other end of the room.

I pushed myself up on my heels, crouching before her as carefully as I could. Before she could move any further, I quickly grabbed her jawbone and neck in my hands, my thumb tracing over her jaw.

"Alice," I kept my voice low and soothing. "Alice baby its okay, it's alright I promise. Don't let them take you back there, don't go back to that place."

Making sure that she wasn't going to push herself even further into panic, I repositioned myself around her, burying her head in the crook of my neck.

You're here," I kept my mouth directly above her ear, my voice a soft whisper. "You're here, with me. It's okay, its alright."

I sat there with her, for I don't even know how long. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to near half an hour. I sat there with her on the floor, waiting, not daring to move a muscle. One wrong move and she would snap my neck on the pure instinct of terror.

She let out a whimper against my skin, her muscles jerking against whatever horrific memory she was reliving.

On a protective reaction, I hardened my grip around her, kissing her head.

"We're going to be alright baby," I whispered, knowing full well she couldn't hear me. "We're going to be alright."


End file.
